As Herrick had explained later when he had come aboard, he was taking no chances. Even Eurotas’s flag hastily run up to the peak, and Swift’s signals from the deck, had not convinced him. His best gun captains had dropped two twelve-pound balls almost alongside even as Tempest had made the signal to heave to and receive boarders.
While he had listened to Bolitho’s story, and had seen the chaos and disorder for himself, Herrick had reacted much as Bolitho had expected. His relief at finding Bolitho alive, and the attack completed successfully, had given way to reproach.
“You should have waited for us, sir. Anything might have happened. You could have been killed or taken by those scum.”
Even when Bolitho had explained how the American, Jenner, had discovered one of the pirates hiding in a magazine with a lighted slow-match and had forced a confession from him that his orders were to blow up the ship and everyone aboard, Herrick remained stubbornly critical.
Bolitho smiled grimly, recalling Herrick’s attempts to maintain his sternness. It never lasted for long.
In the three days it had taken to stand clear of the islands and head towards Sydney again he had done a great deal of thinking; also he had examined the evidence and made out a report for the governor, and for Commodore Sayer.
The attack had broken out within the ship after fire had been reported in a forward hold. In the ensuing confusion, which had been hardly surprising in a vessel filled with civilians and deported prisoners, the poop had been rushed and seized by some of the “passengers” who had boarded Eurotas at Santa Cruz where she had put in for fruit and wine for the long voyage around the Horn. Eurotas’s comings and goings must have been watched and checked for many months.
By the time the crew had discovered the fire to be nothing more than oiled rags in a large iron pot, the ship was in new hands. Some of the prisoners had been brought on deck and had immediately gone over to the attackers. Some had tried to protect their wives and had been instantly killed. Captain Lloyd had been ordered at pistol-point to change tack and head towards the islands. That had apparently been a bad moment for the pirates as they had been sighted and had received recognition signals from a mail packet en route to Sydney.
Once within sight of the islands all hopes of retaking the vessel or putting up any sort of resistance were dashed. A large, heavily armed schooner had escorted them to the bay, and had sent aboard two boatloads of men.
As one of the loyal seamen had exclaimed, “The most terrible villains you ever seed, sir!”
It had been then that the real horror had begun. Looting and drunkenness had been the order of the day. While some of the pirates had directed the unloading of cargo and weapons, money and stores, using the dazed and frightened prisoners like slaves, others had gone on a wild rampage through the ship. Several people had been beaten or hacked to death, women and young girls raped time and time again in a frenzy of brutal cruelty.
Captain Lloyd, no doubt dismayed that his own lack of vigilance had allowed it all to come about, had made a final attempt to overcome his guards and rally the loyal men to his aid.
It had been in vain, and the next day there had been no sign of Lloyd or his mates, or indeed most of his senior men.
Bolitho found himself moving round the cabin, recalling Viola’s eyes as she had described the nightmare. Every hour was filled with despair and terror. The pirates came and went, abusing men and women like beasts, sometimes fighting with each other in a daze of brandy and rum.
Although battened down on the orlop, she was convinced there was also another ship in the bay for part of the time. She had heard the guns being moved from the Eurotas and into a ship alongside. It sounded as if the vessel was lower than Eurotas, perhaps the same size as the schooner.
She had been imprisoned in the little cabin on the orlop for much of the time, sharing it with a young girl who had been deported for theft.
Every day the girl had been dragged screaming from the cabin, while the pirates had left Viola in no doubt that the fate reserved for her was to be the worst.
Only once had she broken down as she had described the sacking of the Eurotas. It had been when she had recalled her feelings as Tempest appeared in the bay.
Eurotas had been harried and attacked by hostile natives, and she had heard it was because the schooner had raided one of the islands and had left more carnage behind them there.
Viola had said quietly, “I knew you had come, Richard. I have been following your career, watching for fresh appointments in the Gazette. When I saw young Valentine Keen appear over the side I knew it was your ship.”
She also described how the leader of the pirates left to guard the Eurotas had threatened them all with instant death by firing the magazine if one made the slightest attempt to warn the boarding party.
“I could not just stand there, Richard. That brute had paraded a handful of passengers to make it appear normal. He and some of the others had donned company uniforms. There had been so much killing. So many terrible things.” She had raised her chin, the brightness in her eyes making her sudden defiance fragile. “Had it been any other ship but yours, Richard, I could have done nothing. But the watch. I knew you would remember.”
“It was a terrible risk.”
She had smiled then. “Well worth it.”
Bolitho looked around the cabin. She had been brought here to meet the real leader of the pirates. Her description had been a good one. A giant of a man, with a beard halfway down his chest. His name was Tuke, and he was English, or so it seemed.
Viola had said, “A man with neither mercy nor any sort of scruple. His language was as foul as himself. He goaded me. Raped me with his words. He was enjoying my helplessness, my complete dependence on him whether I lived or died. But for my husband’s importance, and his usefulness as hostage, I think I would have quickly followed the fate of the others.”
Bolitho found he was pacing more urgently, his stomach muscles contracting as if he were already in close-combat with the pirate called Tuke.
Now the schooner and her consort, if there was one, were somewhere in hiding. Gloating over their loot and the women they had taken with the first load. An island, or islands, not too far from here, he thought. The chart told him nothing, and the two pirates taken alive, little more. They were typical of their calling. Brutalized by murder and hard living. Their leaders might grow rich on their spoils, but men such as these lived hand to mouth like the savages they were.
Even threats had left them untouched. They would die on a gibbet anyway. There would be no torture, and their fear of Tuke was greater, even in the hangman’s shadow, than of anything their captors could offer.
Including the luckless swimmer, Haggard, who had been killed by a shark, Bolitho had lost three men. Considering the darkness, the unfamiliarity of the ship, it was a miracle. Even the wounded looked as if they would recover within a few weeks. The risk had been justified. Vital.
The outer door of the cabin opened and James Raymond walked aft through the screen. He was freshly changed into a clean shirt and neat green coat, and displayed little sign of his ordeal. For several seconds he stood looking at Bolitho, his features giving nothing away.
He was about the same age as Bolitho, but his face, once handsome, had become marred with a permanent frown. Petulance, disapproval, it was all there.
He acted as if he owned the ship. Had been behaving like the one dependable man aboard since Bolitho had seen him released from another tiny cabin. He had not met him for five long years. All the while he had imagined that Raymond’s path to better things had been furthered by his work in the Indies, by his treachery to the governor he had been sent to advise.
Now it seemed different. While Bolitho had fretted at being kept at sea, far from the scenes of greater happenings, Raymond had been sliding towards ignominy. This appointment he had been sent to occupy sounded even lower than the one held five years ago. It was impossible to read his reactions on the matter from what he said.
Raymond remarked coolly, “Still writing your reports, eh, Captain?”
“Aye, sir.” Bolitho regarded him evenly, trying to conceal the anger he felt for him. “There’s more to this than I first imagined.”
“Really?”
Raymond walked to the windows and stared towards the frigate.
“This man Tuke.” Bolitho checked himself. Once before he had shared too much of his confidence with Raymond. He said, “From this ship alone he has equipped himself royally.”
“Hmm.” Raymond turned, his face in shadow. “It is a pity you could not have taken him and his damned hirelings!”
“It is.”
Bolitho watched him, the way his hands opened and closed at his sides. He was less calm than he pretended. He wondered what would happen when they reached port, what story Raymond would tell. From what he had already gathered, Raymond had been pleading for his life when Tuke’s men had seized the Eurotas.
It was to be hoped Raymond had not bartered secrets for personal safety. The Great South Sea was attracting the flags of a dozen countries. Always the search for more trade, further influence and territory.
Perhaps the authorities in Sydney knew more than they said. Bolitho hoped so, for with only Tempest and the elderly Hebrus to represent the King’s authority, any additional threat in these vast waters did not bear consideration.
Raymond complained, “I have lost a great deal of money. Those damned rogues—” He faltered, caught off guard by his own disclosure. “I’ll see them all hanged!”
The door opened and Viola Raymond stood with one hand steadying herself against the screen as the deck tilted heavily.
Bolitho watched her, the stiff way she held her shoulder. Again he felt the rage churning inside him. Tuke had pressed the heated tip of a knife against her bare skin. His mark. It must have been agony.
She said, “Who will you see hanged, James?” She did not hide her contempt. “I do not see you as a man of action.”
Raymond replied harshly, “That is enough. Your stupidity might have cost us our lives. But for you—”
“But for her quick thinking most of the prisoners and loyal men would have been burned alive in this ship.” Bolitho faced him. “Maybe you would have been spared. I cannot tell. But the deaths of so many set against money and personal trappings seems too great for my reasoning.”
He looked away, feeling Raymond’s hatred and Viola’s compassion.
“I lost some good men, too. Did you think to ask about them? To know if a young seaman called Haggard, who was seized by a shark, has a family or a widow in England?” He shrugged. “I suppose I should be used to such indifference, but it still snares my throat.”
Raymond said hoarsely, “One day, Captain Bolitho, I’ll make you regret your insolence. I am not blind, nor am I a fool.”
She asked, “Are you going on deck, Captain?” She glanced at her husband. “I have endured enough for one day.”
They walked between the other cabins, and Bolitho heard Raymond slam a door with such force it sounded as if it would tear from its hinges. He paused in the shadow, one hand on her wrist.
“Three days. I can’t stand seeing you with him. Perhaps I should have returned to my ship and put a lieutenant in command. It will be three weeks before we make a landfall.”
He felt her skin in his touch. Soft and warm.
She was looking at him, her eyes very steady. “And I have been waiting and hoping for five years. We were wrong. We should have dared. Have broken with convention.” She raised her hand to his face. “I have never forgotten.” Her teeth showed white in the gloom. “Even the special smell you have. Of ships and salt. I’d have thrown myself to the sharks which killed your poor sailor rather than submit to that monster Tuke!”
Bolitho heard the chime of a bell, the attendant slap of bare feet as the watch changed. Someone, Ross or Keen, might come aft at any moment.
He said, “Take care, Viola. You have made a bad enemy in your husband.”
She shrugged. “He has made himself that. He did not even lift a finger to protect me.”
Allday clattered down a companion ladder and shot them a brief glance.
She asked calmly, “What do you see, Allday?” She smiled at him. “More things to worry you?”
Allday scratched his head. Viola Raymond was part of a world he had never shared, and rarely trusted.
“Squalls, ma’am. I see plenty o’ them. But I’ve no doubt we’ll manage.”
Bolitho watched him go. “You have him at a loss for words. That is rare indeed.”
They walked forward, past the big double wheel, and out on to the broad deck.
The air tasted fresh after the cabin, and from the set of the topsails Bolitho guessed they were making fair headway. He wondered if Herrick was watching them through his glass, worrying like Allday at what might happen.
She slipped her hand through his arm and said lightly, “The deck is very unsteady, is it not?” Then she looked up at him, her eyes challenging. Pleading.
In a quieter tone she said, “Three weeks, you say?”
He felt her fingers digging into his arm.
She continued, “After so long, I could not bear it.”
Keen stood with Ross at the lee side and watched discreetly.
The master’s mate asked, “What d’you make of it, Mr Keen? The cap’n seems to weather as many risks here as he does in battle.” He chuckled. “Man, he’s fair taken wi’ th’ lass, there’s no doubt to it!”
Keen cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”
The big Scot stared at him. “Mr Keen, sir, you’re blushing!” He strode away, enjoying his discovery, and leaving the lieutenant with his confusion.
Midshipman Swift hovered nearby and asked, “Is there anything I can do, sir?”
Keen glared. “Yes. Attend to your duties, damn you!”
The two figures by the weather rail heard none of this. The savagery of hand to hand fighting and what had gone before was momentarily lost against the darkening blue sea, and the future still lay out of reach and without form.
Perhaps it had all been quite hopeless from the beginning, and yet Bolitho felt restored.
Commodore James Sayer moved wearily to avoid the bright sunlight from the stern windows as his flagship swung heavily to her cable.
He had just returned from the governor’s residence, and was still wearing his dress coat. Beneath his shirt his skin felt cold and clammy, even after the pull across the anchorage in his barge, so great was the contrast in his cabin.
Through the quarter windows he could just see the frigate Tempest, her outline bending through the thick glass as if she was in a haze. She had anchored at first light that morning, and Captain Bolitho had come aboard the flagship in response to Sayer’s signal, and had delivered his written report, as well as a verbal account of the Eurotas’s plundering and murder.
The important passenger, James Raymond, had not visited the flagship, but had gone straight to Government House.
Sayer breathed out slowly as he recalled his own reception there. Usually he got on quite well with the governor, allowing for the usual span between government and the Navy. This time he was surprised to find him fuming with rage.
“If things weren’t bad enough, Sayer, we’ve now got that animal Tuke on our hands. He stripped the Eurotas, and God knows what use he’ll make of her artillery. I’m sending the brig Quail to England with my despatches immediately. I must have more support here. I can’t be expected to take incoming prisoners, build their accommodation, tend to their security and keep our trade routes patrolled.”
Commodore Sayer had never met Raymond, and he had not known what to expect. He had heard that he had been promoted from being a government adviser to the East India Company to his present post out here. As far as Sayer was concerned, being posted to the Great South Sea could never be seen as promotion. Punishment more like.
But Tuke he did know. Mathias Tuke, like many
of his trade, had begun life at sea in an English privateer. It had seemed the natural thing to take the next step and act merely for himself. Against any flag, and with every means at his disposal. He had missed hanging by inches many times, and all the while his influence and the stories of his horrific deeds had spread across two oceans. He had sailed these waters before, and had then set up a base near more prosperous routes in the Caribbean and the Spanish harbours of the Americas.
Cruel, ruthless, feared even by his own sort, Tuke had given many an admiral a headache wondering where he would strike next. And now he was here.
Sayer had said, “I have a full report of the happenings in Eurotas, sir. But for Captain Bolitho’s prompt action, with no little risk to himself and his landing party, I fear we would have lost everything, and all the people aboard the vessel slaughtered in a most callous manner.”
“Quite.” The governor had fiddled with papers on his great desk. “I am furious with Eurotas’s master for acting so stupidly! Taking extra passengers at Santa Cruz with so many convicts and too few guards on board!” He had thrown up his hands in despair. “Well, he has paid for it, poor devil.”
Sayer had said nothing. He had known for some while that most of the captains of merchantmen on government warrants had added to their payment by taking extra passengers. Like deck cargo, they paid handsomely, and many a sea captain retired rich. But not Captain Lloyd of the Eurotas.
“It puts me in the very devil of a position.” The governor had moved around the room despite the sullen heat. “Mr Raymond has important work to do in the Levu Islands. It is all arranged. Now, with Eurotas virtually disarmed and in need of competent officers and replacement crew, I dare not allow him to proceed there without escort.”
Sayer had still remained silent. The Levu Group, adjacent to the Friendly Islands where Tuke had run Eurotas to ground, had been under discussion for many months, and almost as long as the colony in New South Wales had been founded. The local chiefs were friendly and open to barter. They hated each other, but that was safer. There was a good anchorage on the main island, with fresh water and plenty of timber. The group, or parts of it, had been claimed and reclaimed over and over again by any ship’s captain who chose to anchor there in search of water and food, and hoist his country’s flag.
Passage to Mutiny Page 11
